Mary Wilson, editor of the Jackson County Advocate newspaper, grew up in the Grandview, Missouri community. She currently serves as Treasurer for the Missouri Press Association, immediate past president of the Grandview Main Street, Inc., serves on the Board of Directors for the Kansas City Press Club, and works as a development coordinator for the Grandview Education Foundation. You can reach her at mwilson@jcadvocate.com, or follow her on twitter @MWilsonJCA.

Thursday, December 31, 2015

I’ve always liked New Year’s. I like the idea of celebrating the past and looking forward to the future with people I care about. I like receiving a fresh start, new calendars and new beginnings. Because no matter what the previous year put in my path, the new year, for me, symbolizes hope for good things to come.

This past year has given me many things to reflect on. My divorce was final at the beginning of the year, and along with that came changes, both good and not so good. I have learned to make the most of the time I have with my son, and I stepped back into the world of dating and learned how to fall in love again.

Along with the rest of Kansas City, I watched our boys in blue put us through a whirlwind of a baseball season, topped off with a World Series win. I’ve gained friends, and lost a few. I rode roller-coasters with Michael and ate funnel cakes whenever possible. I listened to lots of live music and studied artwork from both local artists and internationally-known ones.

I have laughed hysterically and I have shed some tears. I’ve lost several pounds and gained a few of them back. I have whipped and nae-naed, uptown funked and seen things go down (for real). I sang the blues in Memphis and talked with the puma at the Henry Doorly Zoo in Omaha.

2015 has been a good year. It’s been a year of self-discovery and healing. It’s been a year of more ups than downs. I look forward to a positive 2016. I’m not one to make resolutions (I have before, and they usually last until the third week in January), but there are some things I hope to accomplish next year.

On the top of my list is to continue to build a positive and impactful relationship with my son. I’d like to travel a bit more and see new places. I’d like to lose the few pounds I gained back and maybe participate in a 5K or two. I want to finish the novel I’ve been working on for too many years. Most of all, I want to smile more and share those smiles with others.

Thursday, December 10, 2015

I don’t consider myself to be overly
environmentally-conscious. Sure, I throw my empty soda can in a recycle bin
when available. I take old newspapers to the recycling dumpsters at my son’s
school. But don’t ask me about the effects global warming or vehicle emissions
or water purification. I think, like most people, I am aware of the dangers of
those things, but they’re not things that affect my day-to-day living.

A few years back, we reported on the long-running litigation
between Ideker Inc. and the Concerned Citizens for AIR Inc (CCAIR) regarding an
asphalt plant near Missouri Highway 150 and Interstate 49. In the suit filed in
2013, CCAIR and Grandview sought to keep Ideker from obtaining a permit to run
the plant in Kansas City, due to concerns about air pollution. They wanted a
Jackson County court to decide whether the Missouri Department of Natural
Resources had improperly approved an air-emissions permit for Ideker's
facility.

The group expressed concerns about air quality in general
while Grandview, more specifically, had issues about potential impact from
chemical and dust emissions reaching nearby elementary schools in the area. The
lawsuit showed promise when a Jackson County judge approved a temporary
restraining order against a temporary permit to Ideker from the DNR, a decision
that the Missouri Supreme Court later upheld.

But Ideker received a permanent permit early in 2014 and
moved to get the lawsuit against it and the DNR dismissed so that it could
continue operating. Ideker and the DNR argued that Grandview hadn't taken the
necessary steps to block the permit through the DNR before heading off to
court. While a Jackson County judge didn't find that argument persuasive, a
panel of appellate judges did.

However, in July of this year, the case reached a conclusion
with the court dismissing the case, granting Ideker the ability to keep its
permit and stick to business as usual.

And business as usual is exactly how Ideker responded. The
other morning, on my way into the office, I snapped a photo of the asphalt
plant from my vantage point down 150 Highway. In the photo, with a crisp, clear
blue sky, you can see a cloud of billowy, black smoke rising from the facility,
headed straight into the wind toward Butcher-Greene Elementary School.

With it being a nice December day, I imagined the hundreds
of children in the area that will head outside for recess. Though they may not
be able to smell anything odd in the air (they may even be used to any odors by
now), I couldn’t help but wonder about the long-term effects of breathing in
the emissions from creating the asphalt.

If the wind shifts the other direction, those emissions head
straight for Belvidere Elementary School andnd straight into the lungs of my
ten-year-old son. When driving behind a vehicle that is expelling junk into the
air, I have the option to roll up my windows, close my vents and speed around
them. The kids playing outside at recess or enjoying their own backyards should
be able to have some options, too, when it comes to the air they breathe.

I’m hopeful that this isn’t the end of the fight. I’m
hopeful that CCAIR will continue to press on. I’m hopeful that MDNR will take
our children into consideration. And, I’m hopeful that the safety and
well-being of the community surrounding the development along the 150 corridor
will outshine the dollar signs that seem to be glaring in the eyes of local
political and developmental spearheads.

Thursday, December 3, 2015

I don’t remember how old I was when I stopped believing in
Santa Claus. I do remember seeing gifts addressed to me under our Christmas
tree that read, “To: Mary, From: Santa” in handwriting that was distinctively
my dad’s. I grew up with an older brother that surely had something to do with
my skepticism where St. Nick is concerned.

My son, Michael, was pretty young when he found out. The
conversation went something like this:

“Mom, you know how you told me that magic isn’t real?”

“Yes. Magic is not real, it’s pretend.”

“Well, you also told me that Santa delivers all those
presents to all the kids by using magic.”

He was around four at the time, and he felt pretty important
being “in” on the biggest secret of his life. Since then, he’s had fun talking
about Santa with younger children. Sometimes, though I know he doesn’t believe,
I still feel as though he gets caught up in the magic of the season.

I had the privilege last week of photographing the man
himself at the Christmas in the Sky event at Longview Lake. There, much like in
the movie Polar Express, Santa gave
the first gift of Christmas, a shiny bell, to a little girl from the Dream
Factory. Watching the delight on Hannah’s face, and on the faces of the
hundreds of children there to see Santa, I couldn’t help but feel the true
spirit of Christmas.

A few days later, I ran into Santa, the same Santa I saw and
photographed last week. He’s the real deal: an authentic white beard, rosy
cheeks and a soft belly. I introduced myself to him and with a twinkle in his
eye and a deep-belly laugh, he said, “Well, Mary, it’s really nice to see you
again, though I noticed you don’t write anymore. Have a Merry Christmas.”

Like a little kid, my immediate thought was, “he knows!” He
knows I haven’t written to him since I was a girl, and he misses my letters! My
face turned red and I struggled to speak, apologizing for not writing. I
suppose even if I don’t completely believe, the spirit of Christmas can still
be just as magical as when I was small.

So, I’ll be writing that letter this year. I won’t be asking
for Barbies or a new dress or a bigger, better bicycle. This year, I’ll ask
Santa to keep the spirit alive in all of us, no matter how old we get or when
we first stopped believing.